


Anything goes

by No1fan15



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, And the music is good, M/M, Yup it's a Fallout 4 AU, because I want to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 19:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No1fan15/pseuds/No1fan15
Summary: Yamcha knows there's danger outside Vault 81. Feral ghouls, Raiders, Deathclaws, and all other kinds of monsters made the wasteland their home. Yet the most alarming thing he's found so far is that the man who saved his life might just be saving his broken heart along with it.





	1. It's all over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamcha fails to handle his break up well.

"It's all over, but the crying~ 

And nobody's crying but me~"

 

The tinny sound of the Pip-Boy radio made its way across the wasteland. Yamcha hummed along to it as he walked down the road. Any normal wastelander wouldn't have done so in such a brazen fashion. Danger was around every corner and it was unwise to broadcast your location with music. Yamcha found he didn't really care. He was more than a little buzzed, on both alcohol and chems, and swung his bat around haphazardly to the music. Who wouldn't after what he'd just been through? At least getting killed outside and fighting was better than drinking himself to death at a run down settlement somewhere. Returning to the Vault wasn't an option anyways. Not after the way he left.

 

"Friends all over know I'm trying~

To forget about how much I care for you~"

 

He started to hum louder. Then he began to sing. If he was going to be found anyways he may as well try to have a good time before it happened. He stumbled a bit over over a hole in the street. The ruined city wasn't the kindest environment for a drunk man. He continued singing along as he passed through the darkened alleyways. The sun had set a while ago. A warm glow caught his attention. There was a wall of some sort blocking the road ahead. Small fires burned from within. Yamcha grimaced and changed course. It looked inviting but he knew better. That was the place everyone called Hangmans Alley. He may feel like dying but he'd prefer not to do so to Raiders. He didn't want his remains on display for the world to see, thank you very much, especially with the Vault so close by. Someone he knew could find him.

 

"It's all over but the dreaming~

Poor little dreams that keep trying to come true~" 

 

Vault 81. His home for so many years. The nostalgia almost made him turn back. There were still people who cared about him in there. He pressed forwards none the less. With Bulma gone.... there was no point. His singing grew off key as his emotions started to swell. She left him for a Raider, of all people. One who had nearly killed him at that. He had the scars on his face to remind him of what would happen if he tried to get her back. He kicked a can out of his path and screamed the lyrics of the song until it hurt to breathe. After so long she had left him so easily. He had done so much for her and now none of it mattered. It wasn't fair. Nothing in the wasteland was. He was starting to think that dying would hurt less. He held back tears and put his all into the next verse of the song.

 

"It's all over but the crying~

And I can't get over crying over you~" 

 

As the tune faded out Yamcha turned off his radio. A perfect song to end things on. He heard something approaching from behind him. It looked like he'd get the fight he wanted sooner then expected. He centered his baseball cap and readied his bat. Whoever was following him was in for one hell of a battle.    

                                  

"I can hear you out there. No need to be sneaky." Yamcha called out into the night. He braced himself as best he could. The rustling grew louder as the something approached. Out of the alley shot a small figure. It was faster then Yamcha's drunk mind could comprehend at the moment and slammed into him. He was surprised to find that he hadn't been stabbed, or tackled to the ground, or blown up, or harmed at all. No, he realized slowly. He was being hugged.

"I found you!" said a cheerful voice. Yamcha felt a chill run down his spine as he recognized it. He pushed himself out of the hug and knelt down. 

"Puar?! What are you doing here?!" he exclaimed. The child in front of him beamed. 

"I came to help you! No grownups were gonna go so I had to!" she said. 

"That's really sweet and all but you need to go home. It's dangerous." Yamcha said nervously. Puar couldn't be out here. She'd never fought anything before. 

"It's not that bad. I have you! And this!" Puar said as she gleefully lifted a wrench Yamcha knew she must have taken from the construction area of the Vault. "For the bad guys. I also got my tools an' my blanket."

"I can see that." Yamcha said. Puar was indeed carrying what she claimed. Her tool bag was strapped to a belt around her waist and her blanket was tired underneath her chin. Yamcha spotted the "kitty ears" sewn onto the top and knew this blanket was Puar's favorite. She obviously didn't plan on returning to the Vault. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Then we're talking about this." 

"...... carry?" Puar asked. She held out her arms. Yamcha gave her a small smile and picked her up. 

"Always. C'mon kiddo." he said. He stood and started scanning the area for places to hide. All his commotion from earlier hadn't drawn any attention yet but if it did now..... He shook off the thought and started walking. A few minutes later he found an empty building that still had all its doors.

 

"This will work." he mumbled and went inside. The sign on the front had declared it as the Holy Mission Congregation. Yamcha had heard in the Vault history lessons about churches being a place of sanctuary. He hoped that belief held true nowadays. He placed Puar down and sat on a nearby pew. "Alright. Puar, please listen to me. You're a child. It's too risky for you to be in the outside world."             

"Nu-uh! I'm seven!" Puar argued with crossed arms. "And the caravans have kids with them!" 

"Those kids grew up in the wasteland. They've been taught how to survive out here. You haven't." Yamcha explained. He opted to not mention the occasional slavers that passed by. "It's still dangerous for them too. No one is safe out here. Not even me."

"But.... I gotta help you rescue Bulma!" Puar protested. "That's why you left, right? You're gonna be a hero!" 

"Puar...... Bulma doesn't need saving. She got a new boyfriend. Trust me, he's strong enough to protect her. She went to stay with him." Yamcha said quietly. Had the Vault staff really not told the kids why Bulma left? Sure, she didn't like children much but they were sure to notice her absence.

"She did? Then.... why did you leave?" Puar said.

”I...” Yamcha started to say something, hoping whatever came out of his mouth was a good explanation, but a noise from nearby cut him off. It sounded... close. Too close. As in whatever-made-that-sound-is-right-behind-me-close. He stood up and raised his bat. It appeared that his bad luck was starting to get worse as he found himself face to face with a feral ghoul. He buried his bat into said ghouls face as hard as he could. It went down but more snarls and growls from the area indicated there were more. 

 _"Fan-fucking-tastic, a whole congregation."_ Yamcha thought as he hastily tugged his weapon out of the dead ghouls head. Puar whimpered and grabbed the back of his jacket. He tired to put on a brave smile and readied his bat again.  

"Don't worry Puar. I'll protect you from these guys." he said. Puar nodded and held him closer. He began to slowly back towards the door. If he could get Puar out of there then she could run back to the Vault. A second ghoul jumped at him and he took a swing at it. The hit connected with a crack and it dropped. "When we get to the doors I need you to run as far away as you can, okay? Run home." 

"What about you?" Puar said. 

"I'll be fine. Just - " Before he could finish his sentence a third ghoul rushed at him. He didn't have any time to react and its teeth were soon buried in his shoulder. He yelled and shoved it off of him. A hit from the bat took it down but Yamcha already felt his whole arm burn with pain. He didn't have much time left before it became useless. He used his other hand to swing the bat outwards in a defensive arc against the remaining ghouls. He felt his back hit wood and kicked open the church doors. "Go, now!" 

"But-" 

"GO!!!" he shouted as he took a wobbly swing at a ghoul. Puar wiped away tears and started to run.                                       

"I'll get help! Don't die!" she shouted.

Yamcha didn't have time to respond as the remaining ghouls struck. A well timed sidestep sent two of them face first into a wall. He took out the legs of the next one and then cracked the bat across its jaw. He tried to keep their attention as he moved further into the church. He couldn't have them going after Puar. 

"Come on! Bring it!" he shouted. The two remaining ghouls that had previously run into the wall ran at him in tandem. One went after his already bleeding arm and the other missed. Yamcha screamed with pain but let the one on his arm stay. He knew the limb was useless at the moment so the other ghoul was the bigger threat. He brought the bat down on its head. The impact was forceful enough, and bat so worn, that the weapon broke. Grimacing, Yamcha raised the splintered end he had left and drove it into the last ghouls neck. He pried it off his arm and let it fall. All the ferals were dead now.

"Dammit..." Yamcha swore with gritted teeth as he collapsed onto the floor. He dragged himself into a sitting position and leaned against the front of the pulpit. His right arm lay limp at his side and was the source of the ever growing pool of blood around him. He dug into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out his last hit of jet. If he was gonna die slow he was gonna make the best of it. Once he inhaled it he felt an instant sensation of calm run through him. He let the empty container drop and exhaled slowly. The mist from the jet formed lazy spirals in the air around him, lit by moonlight coming in through broken windows. He could feel himself getting weaker. At least Puar was safe. The drug soon took hold of him and time seemed to blur. He wasn't sure if he had been there for seconds or hours. Just when he thought it was all over he heard something come inside. Maybe it would end his pain for him. 

"..... here!.... help... please..." 

Yamcha could barely make out the words but he knew that voice. Why was Puar back? She was supposed to be at the Vault. Soon there was a shadow standing over him. Much too big to be Puar but he could spot the blue of her blanket out of the corner of his eye. She was here but with someone else. The shadow came closer. It smelled like gunpowder and... noodles? It had to be a person. Yamcha jumped slightly as he felt the cold metal of a stimpack needle suddenly stab his injured arm. All he could manage was a weak cry in protest. The stimpack went to work right away and he could tell the wounds in his arm were already closing. It didn't stop him from drifting off anyways. The last coherent thing he could make out was the word "Rest" and the sensation of being lifted up. Then everything was dark.


	2. Atom Bomb Baby

He was dancing. 

He shouldn't be. Hadn't he left the Vault? 

Yet there he was. 

The normally full hallways were empty. Only the atrium he was in seemed to be lit. There was an unnatural stillness lying over everything. 

Yamcha didn't notice. 

 

"C'mon, our song is playing." 

Bulma laughed and led him around the floor in dance moves smoother than they should have been. He smiled and practically melted into her arms as he followed her movements. 

 

 "~Got a doll baby, I love her so

Nothing else like her anywhere you go~" 

 

Yamcha joyfully spun Bulma and she laughed again. He could listen to that laugh all day. Something on the edge of his vision flickered but he paid it no mind. Right now he wanted to focus on his beautiful girlfriend. 

 

"~Man she's anything but calm

A regular pint sized atom bomb~" 

 

Yamcha smirked as he recalled the sour look Bulma had given him the first time he had compared her to that particular line in the song. He hadn't been wrong. Bulma had a right nuclear temper hiding underneath her sweet exterior. He stumbled a bit as he briefly recalled being on the receiving end of her anger one too many times. Then Bulma led him into another dance move and he forgot all about it.  

 

"~Atom bomb baby, little atom bomb~"

 

He happily swayed in time with the music as Bulma grinned. Just like before. Before..... That's right. She left him. The next line of the song was too distant to hear as Yamcha remembered. The raider boss. The fight. The night he'd spent without a care for his life. 

 

"~She's just the way I want her to be

A million times hotter than TNT~"

 

As the next part of the song finished playing Yamcha felt the floor shift under him. Bulma was gone. The Vault was gone. Everything was dark and his shoulder hurt. He shouted helplessly into the void. He didn't want to go yet. 

 

His next yell pulled him into the world of the waking. He blinked a few times and squinted at a nearby light. Where the hell was he? His instinct to sit up was promptly quashed by the searing hot pain that shot through his arm. He barely suppressed a shout and looked around from.... a bed? It seemed he was in a house of some kind. Only one room he could see lying down. He sighed and slumped down onto the pillow that cradled his aching head. He knew THAT was from the jet. He'd never handled it well. The pain running down his shoulder had to be from the ghoul attack the day before. Right. The ghouls. Puar had come back with someone.... Puar. Where was she? Yamcha tried to speak but all that came out was a garbled moan. He wasn't going to be lecturing her anytime soon. He head a noise at the door and slowly turned his head to see a young boy standing in it. He was around ten, if he had to guess, and rather pale. As soon as the kid saw he was awake he left the room.

"Your friend's awake!" he said to someone out of sight. The next second another kid ran in. This one Yamcha recognized.

"Yamcha! You're alive!" Puar said tearfully. She hovered next to his bed with a worried yet relieved look. Yamcha gave her a weak smile. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Ten said you'd be fine, but...."

"S'okay..." Yamcha mumbled. "M'here...."

"I know you told me to run but... I couldn't just leave you there." Puar continued. Despite her best attempts more tears welled up. "I couldn't let you die...."

"Thanks." Yamcha whispered. Puar sat on a chair next to the bed and sniffed again.

"I'll protect you this time. Ten said you need to sleep." she said. Yamcha nodded slightly, making a mental note to ask who this "Ten" person was when he woke up again, and began to drift off. Soon he was in a thankfully dreamless slumber. When he woke up again the lights in the room were turned down. A glance to the corner of the room revealed Puar curled up and sleeping on a barely standing couch.

 

"Heard you woke up earlier. Good to see you've decided to live."

That voice. The same deep voice that he'd heard right before passing out last night. Yamcha looked up to see a man standing nearby. He wore simple pants and a shirt with a grey knit hat covering his head. In his hands was something metal and sharp.... a stimpack. The man walked over and sat on the chair next to the bed. Yamcha hissed in pain as the man pulled back the bandage on his shoulder.

"Take a deep breath. This will hurt." the man warned. Yamcha did so and winced as the stimpack pierced his arm. After a moment of agony numbing relief began to radiate from the puncture wound all the way down his arm. Once that was done the man pulled out a second smaller needle. Med-X. A small pinch was all it took for that one. 

 ".... you're the one that saved me." Yamcha said. The man nodded and wrapped new bandages around Yamcha's arm. 

"Your little friend there, Puar, found me when I was on a supply run." he explained. "They begged me to help and when a sobbing child asks you to do something like that you don't exactly say no." 

"She can be pretty stubborn." Yamcha said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she'd tried to drag you into that church all by herself." 

"I don't doubt it." the man agreed. "Although I'm curious as to why she thought running up to a random stranger carrying a sword was a good idea." 

"..... to be fair she was raised in a Vault." Yamcha grumbled. 

"I gathered that from the Vault suit." the man said. "It still means someone saw fit to let her leave." 

"She snuck out." Yamcha said. ".... she was trying to find me."  

"In that case it wasn't your fault, was it?" said the man. "Children can be.... unpredictable." 

"Was that boy from before your kid?" Yamcha asked. 

"Chiaotzu? No." said the man. He finished securing the bandages and stood up. "I'll get you something to drink. I think we have some purified water around here somewhere." 

"I'd appreciate it." Yamcha said. The offer made him realize just how thirsty he was. He'd add it to his list of current issues. It was a fast growing list for sure. Beside his already apparent wounds the mental stress was catching up to him. Nearly dying to ferals followed up with pain and confusion wasn't a pleasing combination. He decided it would be in his best interests to take in things one at a time. 

 

First was his psychical condition. Even after the stimpack his arm still burned slightly. It was worse at the top of his shoulder where the ghouls had sunk their teeth in. You'd think something that irradiated wouldn't have any teeth left but you'd be wrong. There were, of course, a myriad of various bruises and scrapes covering just about every part of him. They were barely noticeable against the bites though. It was by far the worse pain he'd ever been in. The fight that gave him the scars on his face came close but that was supplemented by emotional trauma. He sighed as his mind decided to linger on that particular topic. 

 Sure, his reaction to Bulma leaving him was somewhat justified. She'd given up their love of seven years so she could go after a raider. Yamcha scowled as he remembered the guy. Leader of one of the biggest gang subsets in the entire Commonwealth and even more of a bastard than regular raiders. The guy had barely cracked five feet tall and he used every inch to channel pure rage. When he'd rolled in with his flunkies to trade Yamcha had been tempted to laugh at him. He certainly wasn't laughing when Bulma had left with nary a word as to why. There was no fight, no answers, just empty and painful silence. Confronting the raider in question had only served to marr his face and shatter any hope he had of getting Bulma back. But... 

Now that it had been a few days and he wasn't drunk anymore he regretted what he'd done. Screaming at the only friends he had left that nothing mattered to him, even them, and then leaving to try to get himself killed. He'd already realized it was a bad decision when Puar had showed up. As he lay in pain on a kind strangers bed all his mind registered was despair. What would happen now? He knew he had to get Puar back to the Vault. As for himself... he didn't know if he could face everyone there again. 

 

"Hurt that bad?" 

Yamcha looked over to the door. The man had returned with a can of purified water in hand and Yamcha realized he'd started to tear up without noticing. He raised his good arm and wiped at his eyes. Dammit, he didn't need to break down in front of this guy. He'd work through his personal problems later. 

"I'll be fine." he said. The man sat down next to the bed. 

"I would hope so after all the chems I put in you." he said. He reached out and helped Yamcha sit up. A hiss of a breath drawn through gritted teeth was the only indication Yamcha gave that the motion hurt. The man put an arm against his back to support him. Yamcha gladly accepted the water and in a few seconds he'd finished the can. "Feeling better?" 

"Much." Yamcha said. He attempted a smile. "Thanks. For everything. Most people wouldn't give a damn about anyone other than themselves nowadays." 

"I usually wouldn't." the man said. He removed his arm and stood up. "Get some more rest and let the meds work. I'll wake you up later for some food." 

"Sounds like a plan." Yamcha said. He slowly lay back down with a wince. "Before that though.... Puar said something about a guy named Ten. Is that you?" 

".... Tenshinhan, actually. Just call me Tien." said the man as he walked towards the door. 

"Aww, no nickname privilege for me?" Yamcha teased. Whoo yeah, the meds were definitely working. Tien paused for a moment but didn't look back. 

"...... no." he said flatly. "Now go to sleep." 

"C'mon, _Ten_. Humor me." Yamcha continued. The Med-X dose was kicking in full force along with whatever other drugs he'd been given. His eyelids drooped and his words were starting to slur. He definitely wasn't thinking strait because right now the funniest thing in the world to him was trying to get a response out of Tien. 

 

"... Your name is Yamcha, correct?" Tien said after a moment. 

"Yeah?" Yamcha mumbled. Tien turned to face him and smirked. 

"Then go to sleep, _Yams._ " he said. If Yamcha had been more coherent he might have laughed. 

"Thas' the spirit..." he said before promptly doing so.


End file.
